


After the Hunt

by Rckyfrk



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rckyfrk/pseuds/Rckyfrk
Summary: Bethyl one-shot - prompt: memory. Just a quick little drabble...one of my first, actually.





	After the Hunt

Daryl had tracked the deer for what felt like miles before finally catching up with it. He’d followed it literally over the river and through the woods – as long as he considered the stream he had just waded across a river. The deer had finally stopped to graze in a small clearing. He took aim and fired a bolt straight through its neck. The animal fell to the ground; Daryl rushed over, unsheathing his knife as he moved, and put the animal down quickly.

As he stepped looked around the clearing, making sure the area was free of any walkers before he gathered the animal and readied himself for the trek back home, he realized this wasn’t so much a forest clearing but a front yard. Hidden in the woods was a tiny cottage, weather-worn and beaten by the elements, covered in weeds, vines and moss. The thing looked like it could collapse at any minute, and that was the only thing keeping him from entering it and searching for any kind of supplies.

The sight of the small, worn down building sent his memories racing to the forefront of his mind, back to where it had all began for him – back to the moonshine shack. Back to where he had first opened up to Beth, so long ago. Back to where he had opened his heart to her, pouring out everything – all the crap, the pain, the insecurity – and laying it at her feet. Back where she had reached out and pulled him back from the ledge, away from the dangerous spiral he could feel himself falling into.

Back to where she had touched his heart, wrapped her loving self around it, and never let go, healing him with every word, every look, every breath.

As he carried the deer carcass back home, he remembered what had started the whole argument – moonshine. How she had wanted that drink so damn bad, she would have gone through hell to get it.

He supposed that’s really what she’d done.  Gone through hell, dragging him alongside her, and come out clean on the other side.

He'd gone through his own personal hell when he'd lost her. He fought the memories of despair, of hopelessness, of the darkness he faced without her.

He slogged through the stream again, climbing up the bank slowly. The added weight of the deer threw him off balance, he mis-stepped and over compensated, causing him to fall to his knees and onto his shoulder, not wanting to release his grip on dinner, not being able to catch his fall.

He found himself covered in mud and muck, dead leaves and who knows what else. He could have turned around and rinsed off in the stream, but then he’d just have to climb back up again anyway, and the thought of fresh roasted deer meat had him ignoring the mess he’d become and forced him to continue on.

His thoughts returned to the moonshine shack, how Beth had taken to drinking greedily, rushing towards her first bout with drunkenness. He remembered telling her to drink lots of water, knowing that even though she was thirsty, the moonshine would knock her for a hell of a loop. “Yes, Mr. Dixon,” she had mumbled, and his heart clenched. He’d hated her calling him that. It made him think back to his dad, piece of shit that he was. He’d hated sharing that name, that title with him.

Over time, as Beth had continued calling him that, he let the hatred die with the life he’d left behind. She’d said the name teasingly, and as of lately, he damn well enjoyed hearing her sweet voice address him. “Mr. Dixon,” was his own man now, a man she was proud of...a man he’d been proud to become.

He looked up at the cabin he’d called home and smiled. He shook his head and grinned at how out of place it looked in this world. There was a small vegetable garden off to the side and a collection of flowers gracing the flower boxes hanging from the windows, most of which he didn’t know the name of. He could smell the smoke coming from the chimney, rising from the wood-burning stove hiding in the corner of the main room.

Daryl deposited the deer on the front porch and pulled the screen door open, stepping inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light inside the cabin.

When he could finally see well enough, his eyes alighted on the tiny blonde standing near the sink, washing off the vegetables she’d just picked as she began to prepare their dinner. He smiled widely as his eyes rested on her, taking all of her in. He walked over to her, sliding his arms around her, resting his hands on her belly, which was just starting to swell, showing the signs of the life that grew within her. His baby. Their baby. He kissed her cheek and murmured, “Honey, I’m home.”

Beth grinned as she turned her head to kiss his cheek in return. Then her face fell before showing the first signs of anger. She turned in his arms and pushed him away, almost playfully. Daryl grimaced; he knew what was coming next.

“Daryl Dixon! Look at you! You’re a mess! I just got done sweeping this floor and you bring all kinds of dirt and mud in? Go kick those boots off outside and come in and change!”

He grinned sheepishly as he backed away, not able to take her eyes off her.

“Yes, Mrs. Dixon.”


End file.
